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Book: Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 by The Wizard Lord (v1.1)
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Authors: The Wizard Lord (v1.1)
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slicing a tossed apple into thirds in midair, or spearing the on ly red grape from
among half a dozen green ones flung at him, or first swinging his blade above a
cloth spread on a table so fast that the wind of its passage stirred the
fabric, then once the cloth moved, passing the blade beneath it without
scratching the table, cutting the cloth, or letting the cloth entangle the
sword ...
His repertoire was impressive, but Breaker
ceased to find it amusing fairly quickly, as in each case he was set to attempting
to imitate the stunt the next morning. Some such tricks were much easier than
they looked; most were not. Breaker failed to master most of them—which did not
discourage the Old Swordsman at all, but it did discourage Breaker.
"You have no magic helping you,"
the old man said, after one such failure.
"Could you do it without the
magic?" Breaker countered.
"I don't know," the Swordsman said.
"I might; I've been practicing a long, long time."
Breaker grimaced silently in reply.
He continued to ask questions, though.
"What are the other Chosen like?"
he asked one very cold night, as the family huddled by the hearth, as much to
silence his father's grumbling about the weather the Wizard Lord had sent them
as because he really wanted to talk.
"I haven't met all of them," the
old man said.
That startled Breaker, and he turned his
attention from the fire to the Old Swordsman. "You haven't?"
"No," the old man said, rubbing his
hands together. "I've never met the current Beauty or the current Thief,
so far as I know. They keep to themselves."
All three of Breaker's sisters had turned to
listen now, while their parents kept their faces toward the fire.
"Why?" Fidget asked.
"I can't say for certain," the
Swordsman said, "but if you think about it, thieves don't generally like
advertising themselves. And the new Beauty lives in Winterhome, where the
women keep themselves secluded—I've only been there once, and I didn't meet
her. I didn't like it much—it's right under the cliffs, you know, and it feels
closed in and unbalanced, as if half the sky is ready to fall on you. And the
whole society there is strange, with the division between Host People and
Uplanders; half the year it's too crowded, and half the year it's half-empty.
It's not comfortable. Or at least, I didn't find it so."
"You said the new Beauty lives there," Breaker said.
The Swordsman
snorted. "I did, didn't I? Foolish of me. She's been the Beauty for more
than twenty years now—in fact, I wonder how much longer she can last at it.
That's hardly new. But what I meant was that I did know a Beauty, who retired in favor of the present one because her
husband-to-be got jealous and she decided having a family was more important
than serving the Council of Immortals. And yet another held the post when I
first joined the Chosen, though only for a year or two; I never met h er, either."
"Tell me about all of them!"
And to Breaker's surprise, the old man
obliged—though not immediately. He waited until the younger girls had been sent
to bed before continuing.
The Beauty was a role intended as a
distraction more than anything else, he explained; just as the Chosen Swordsman
was by definition the greatest swordsman in Barokan, the Beauty was by
definition the most beautiful woman in Barokan, which meant that her mere
appearance was often enough to make grown men forget whatever they were supposed
to be doing. Her original purpose among the Chosen had been simply to make the
Wizard Lord's servants and guards—and perhaps even the Wizard Lord himself—
abandon their duties, so that the other Chosen would meet less resistance.
The Beauty did not
need to practice anything, as the Swordsman did, nor do anything special to
preserve her beauty; ler took care of her appearance with no
effort on her part. This did not mean that her role came without a price,
though; she was constantly barraged with the attentions of men, and inevitably
drew the envy of other
among half a dozen green ones flung at him, or first swinging his blade above a
cloth spread on a table so fast that the wind of its passage stirred the
fabric, then once the cloth moved, passing the blade beneath it without
scratching the table, cutting the cloth, or letting the cloth entangle the
sword ...
His repertoire was impressive, but Breaker
ceased to find it amusing fairly quickly, as in each case he was set to attempting
to imitate the stunt the next morning. Some such tricks were much easier than
they looked; most were not. Breaker failed to master most of them—which did not
discourage the Old Swordsman at all, but it did discourage Breaker.
"You have no magic helping you,"
the old man said, after one such failure.
"Could you do it without the
magic?" Breaker countered.
"I don't know," the Swordsman said.
"I might; I've been practicing a long, long time."
Breaker grimaced silently in reply.
He continued to ask questions, though.
"What are the other Chosen like?"
he asked one very cold night, as the family huddled by the hearth, as much to
silence his father's grumbling about the weather the Wizard Lord had sent them
as because he really wanted to talk.
"I haven't met all of them," the
old man said.
That startled Breaker, and he turned his
attention from the fire to the Old Swordsman. "You haven't?"
"No," the old man said, rubbing his
hands together. "I've never met the current Beauty or the current Thief,
so far as I know. They keep to themselves."
All three of Breaker's sisters had turned to
listen now, while their parents kept their faces toward the fire.
"Why?" Fidget asked.
"I can't say for certain," the
Swordsman said, "but if you think about it, thieves don't generally like
advertising themselves. And the new Beauty lives in Winterhome, where the
women keep themselves secluded—I've only been there once, and I didn't meet
her. I didn't like it much—it's right under the cliffs, you know, and it feels
closed in and unbalanced, as if half the sky is ready to fall on you. And the
whole society there is strange, with the division between Host People and
Uplanders; half the year it's too crowded, and half the year it's half-empty.
It's not comfortable. Or at least, I didn't find it so."
"You said the new Beauty lives there," Breaker said.
The Swordsman
snorted. "I did, didn't I? Foolish of me. She's been the Beauty for more
than twenty years now—in fact, I wonder how much longer she can last at it.
That's hardly new. But what I meant was that I did know a Beauty, who retired in favor of the present one because her
husband-to-be got jealous and she decided having a family was more important
than serving the Council of Immortals. And yet another held the post when I
first joined the Chosen, though only for a year or two; I never met h er, either."
"Tell me about all of them!"
And to Breaker's surprise, the old man
obliged—though not immediately. He waited until the younger girls had been sent
to bed before continuing.
The Beauty was a role intended as a
distraction more than anything else, he explained; just as the Chosen Swordsman
was by definition the greatest swordsman in Barokan, the Beauty was by
definition the most beautiful woman in Barokan, which meant that her mere
appearance was often enough to make grown men forget whatever they were supposed
to be doing. Her original purpose among the Chosen had been simply to make the
Wizard Lord's servants and guards—and perhaps even the Wizard Lord himself—
abandon their duties, so that the other Chosen would meet less resistance.
The Beauty did not
need to practice anything, as the Swordsman did, nor do anything special to
preserve her beauty; ler took care of her appearance with no
effort on her part. This did not mean that her role came without a price,
though; she was constantly barraged with the attentions of men, and inevitably
drew the envy of other
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